I first became aware of Richard by his book,
Groups That Work (And those that don't). I was transfixed. His research was
pure brilliance. I later had the chance to meet him at the Columbia's Teachers
College Advanced Studies in OD. He was very personable, outgoing, friendly and
welcoming. And brilliant. I am so very saddened by his death. Psychology has
lost a great person.

Richard was a giant (in so many ways), and he will be
greatly missed. On one of the walks I got to take with him he said he
thought happiness was “a cow chewing grass in the meadow,”—and that that
wasn’t for him. He couldn’t resist getting all worked up at anyone who so
much as came near, let alone pressed, one of his many buttons. Working
across the hall from him, my officemates and I would brace ourselves when we
heard a fellow student unknowingly set him off—and then we would all just sit
back in awe as he erupted with passion and knowledge. Richard had
his moods and his moments of gruffness, but eventually he’d come looking for
food to steal and a laugh. I remember him as being goofy and even awkward
at times, and yet he was an absolute ace people reader, beyond politically
astute, and a gifted counselor.

In choosing his students, he always went for the odd
bird. For him, the less “the key fits the lock”, as he put it, the
better. As an adviser, he steadfastly refused to spoon-feed you—though
his influence on your work was unmistakable. The telephone we had in the
office across from his had a tremendously long coil connecting the handset to
the base. Richard would sit on the couch and painstakingly, patiently
untwist each turn of the impossibly tangled coil until the whole length hung
free. It was what he did to the research problems he tackled, and it was
what he did with his students—slowly, carefully working out the knots. I
keep to this day a quiz he made for me when I was struggling with beginning my
dissertation research after the proposal had been accepted. He wrote out
criteria, lettered A thru G (“which is easiest?”, “which is riskiest?” etc.),
accompanied with 5 notecards, each with a numbered alternative (“PhD later”,
“easier project”, etc.), and a grid on which I was to rank order them on the
criteria and then calculate average scores. He, of course, included the
formula for reverse scoring the appropriate items. It was quintessential
Hackman advising, and completing his little exercise re-energized me.

I will be forever grateful to have been his student.
His reach was far and wide, but to me, he will always be the huge man who
signed his messages with a little “r”.

In 1985, just a couple years after I first met Richard, he
and a couple of colleagues from the Center for Creative Leadership in
Greensboro came to my home to plan a CCL program on innovation. It was a cold
winter day, and I had a fire in the fireplace. Richard sat on the floor by the fire,
shoes off, brows knitted in concentration. Having formulated his thoughts, he
leapt to his feet, seized the fireplace poker, and started using it as a baton
to punctuate his monologue. He grew more and more intense, gesturing ever more
broadly with that poker as he spoke. When he finished, 10 minutes later, the
rest of us burst out laughing. Without realizing it, he had grabbed the wrong
end of the poker… and was now covered in soot, head to foot.

Around 1990, I invited Richard to give a seminar in the
psychology department at Brandeis, where I was then on the faculty. The talk
was wonderful, of course, and it gave me one of my most memorable laugh lines.
While describing his research on airline cockpit crews, Richard remarked,
“You know that line the flight attendants say during the safety briefing – ‘In
the unlikely event of a water landing…’? What they should say is, ‘In
the unlikely event of surviving a water landing…’” From then on, anytime
I and my husband (who’d also attended Richard’s talk that day) heard that line
on an airplane, we’d look at each other and burst out laughing. A few years
later, of course, an entire plane-load of people did survive a water
landing on the Hudson River. I called Richard up and said, “So… what do you say
now, smarty-pants?”

In April of 1995, just a few months after I’d moved to HBS,
Richard and I were walking on campus near the Dean’s House. He glanced
over the fence into the House’s backyard, and exclaimed about how fantastic the
spring flowers were. More than a foot shorter than Richard, I allowed as how I
couldn’t quite see them over that high fence... so I’d have to be content with
his description. Without warning, and oblivious to the colleagues and students
walking by us, Richard leaned over, grabbed me around the waist, and hoisted me
high in the air so that I, too, could enjoy the spectacular sight. Of course,
it was I who felt like the spectacular sight at that moment. How
quintessentially Richard… to do something so silly and socially inappropriate
out of an immensely generous impulse to share his joyful enthusiasm for life.

I first met Richard Hackman as he arrived for
his initial MRI appointment at Dana Farber. Immediately, I knew he was a very
special and unique person. Although I could tell he was doing all he could to
fight through the internal pain and suffering the cancer was causing him, he
always had a smile on his face. Richard gave me great insight as to my
endeavors of attaining my Masters of Social Work. I have since moved back to
Maine, where I am originally from, to embark on this journey. I just found myself
writing him an e-mail to catch up, as I had not heard from him in quite some
time. I am terribly saddened to hear the news of Richard's passing. But, as I
know he would want me to do, I am carrying with me the great deal of advice and
encouragement he gave me and will continue to give me throughout this journey.
I will be forever grateful for this.

I am very saddened by the news that Richard has
passed away. Having joined the psychology department only fairly recently, I
haven’t had the chance to get to know Richard as well as most of my other
colleagues. However, it did not take long to realize that Richard was the kind
of person who could, with only a few words, steer a discussion in a new and
more promising direction. This quality, among many others, made him one of the
most important voices in our department. Similarly, I was struck by his ability
to motivate and inspire others with a few brief comments about a person’s work
and advice on what path to follow. Many of our junior faculty members,
including myself, have looked up to him and have been thankful for this advice
and encouragement. Richard not only knew everything there is to know about team
leadership, he knew how to practice the art of being a leader and mentor
himself.

Richard was a beloved member of the Orpheus
family long before he joined the Board of Trustees, through the deep
understanding he developed of the unique relationship of the Orpheus musicians
to their Orchestra-- and his ability to communicate 'the reason for Orpheus.'
When I was board Chair, he offered me much needed encouragement and
understanding-- and lots of good laughs. And as a Trustee of Orpheus, Richard
gave generously of his brilliance, his humor, his time and deep devotion-- and
sometimes his anger, when needed, on the behalf of the Orchestra he loved. He
will be sorely and sadly missed.

Richard was finishing up at U. of Illinois just
as I was starting the program and he was very kind and supportive to the
"newby" from the South. Though at the time I did not realize this,
what he provided was excellent mentoring. Over the years I have seen him at
meetings and at events for the late Joe McGrath (in which Richard was always
thoughtful to include me). I still recall his intensity, creativity, and
engaging laugh, as well as the help and moral support he gave me at that
transition in my life. I am very fortunate to have known Richard. We have lost
a great man and an excellent friend.

Richard Hackman was almost in tears in his Psych
1501 Psychology of Organizations lecture as he hammered home a point in my 19
year old ears: "revolutionaries get killed." He'd recounted the story
of a gentleman killed for sticking to his ethics. It was as if this struggle
defined Richard: how do you make contributions and stick your neck out far
enough, but how do you do so in an ethical way that doesn't cause contextual
effects and detractors to interfere to undermine your goals? Little did I know
that he would shortly be advising me as a manager and board member at Harvard
Student Agencies, later offing to advise me on my thesis on why some melodies
are remembered (and others not), and finally hiring me later as my employer and
co-author on the Group Brain project. Hailing from Central IL like I did, and
with a brain that could not turn off, I always felt a special connection to
Hackman. It took a mind like his for me to be motivated - I feared (and loved)
his ability to ferret out an exaggeration, to ask a pointed question, to frame
someone who slacked, to prod an advisee in the direction of something
"useful" and a line of research that would "make a difference."
He wanted me to go in the direction of academia, instead I've gone outside it.
He thought if I left academia, I would become a lawyer, often later baiting me
with quotes like "I've got the right recommendation letter for you when
you decide to go to law school." I think he was in the last era of titans
who will have the cocoon of the academy to explore fully projects of interest.
Social media has and will launch his area of research on teams forth with
increasing relevancy and legacy, while undermining the ivory tower that enabled
his contributions. Hackman often accused me of not finishing what I started.
His ability, no matter how procrastinated, to eventually get to the things he
meant to complete was a hallmark of his multi-level, multi-tasking way. I used
to put food in the kitchen on 15 in William James Hall, and it didn't matter
how busy he was, he would always find where I hid the potato chips. Attempting
to throw him for a loop, one day I put the chips in the back of the fridge.
About two hours later I ran into Hackman in the elevator and he asked "why
did you put the potato chips in the fridge?" I replied "to keep them
fresher," I lied. "Oh really, wouldn't they get soggy?" I
replied "not at the speed you seem to find them." He ended with
"am I moving too fast for you?" meaning his mind of course -- to
which I would say "no, because you brought mine up to speed." I will
very much miss him.

I probably spent more time with Richard in the
elevator in William James Hall than anywhere else. We rode the elevator
together for 25 years. I can't remember how we met. I was teaching in sociology
and Richard in psychology but he was so friendly that we always chatted. He was
funny and we actually got to know each other on these trips. Sometimes he would
get off on the 5th floor or I would ride up to a higher floor so we could keep
chatting. Eventually we served on some committees together and talked
university politics. But mostly I remember how he was a people person, always
outgoing and humorous and interested in others. I will miss him and I give my
deepest sympathy to his family and friends.

I met Richard in his role as a board member of Orpheus
Chamber Orchestra while I was serving as one of the ensemble's Artistic
Directors. We hit it off immediately, especially once we realized that we liked
the same restaurants in Watertown, MA. We did a lot of work together in our
respective roles with Orpheus Chamber Orchestra and would make a point of
getting together occasionally at the aforementioned restaurants in Watertown. I
was always so intrigued by his larger-than-life personality and I still cannot
believe that this wonderful man is no more. He will always be with me as
somebody that really left a lasting impression on me.

Richard
Hackman was a major influence in my life. I eagerly took his class as an
undergraduate, and it rocked my world. His work has accompanied me throughout
my life - I taught his theories in Cambodia to NGO staff and activists, and
even brought his book Work Redesign with me on my honeymoon – my wife thought I
was crazy to read about motivational tasks under a palm tree in Fiji, but it
felt just right to me. As soon as I came back to Harvard as a graduate student,
we reconnected, and had some wonderful conversations in his office on the 15th
floor. Richard, you'll be greatly missed.

Like
so many here, Richard had a major impact on my life – both as a mentor and as a
friend, just at the moment I needed some help. At a low point in my grad
school career, when I was struggling with my dissertation and dealing with the
illness of my father, he was so thoughtful, kind, and pragmatic. He would
say, “Lets go for a walk,” and, yes, he would put his shoes back on, and we’d
leave William James Hall and moving at a rapid clip, he’d gently ask questions
that invariably seemed to clarify and simplify what previously seemed
intractable. I am forever grateful for that kindness and help. He
had amazing intellectual prowess that led to simple and elegant ideas – and he
had a big heart. He will be missed.

Iam terribly saddened to hear the news of Professor
Hackman's passing. Beyond just being my undergraduate senior thesis
advisor during the 2010-2011 academic year, he was THE pivotal figure in my
undergraduate career and the person who opened up my eyes to the possibility of
organizational behavior as a career. Whatever my future steps in the field, I know
that Professor Hackman did and will continue to influence my life trajectory
as I hold tight the advice he has given me, and for that Iam forever
grateful.

Richard and I were childhood friends and rode bicycles
around our small home town (Virginia, IL) and built our own miniature golf
course in his backyard. In high school, we participated in sports, school plays
and played pinochle; we ate at each other’s houses and double dated. We were
always interested in the physical sciences and when we went off to college, I
figured he would be a physicist. When I returned home in the summer of 1959,
Richard was enthused about research going on at Duke University involving ESP.
At his insistence we spent the early part of the summer doing ESP experiments
designed by him. The experiments failed but I believe he was hooked on
psychology from that point on. His family moved and we went our separate ways but
we stayed in touch over the years, participating in each other’s marriage, and
exchanging the occasional communication discussing family, interests, and
research. I last saw Richard at our 50th high school reunion in June,
2008. Everyone was so pleased that he agreed to attend. In the Class Biography most of us spoke
fondly of retirement but not Richard who said “Not for a while. The work is too
engaging to let go.” About three years ago I sent him a photo; the photo showed
a group of us taking a break from waterskiing, sitting on a log eating
watermelon. He seemed to take great pleasure in it and said he had shown it to
Harvard colleagues. In spite of his success, Richard never really changed much
in the way he dealt with his friends. Two measures of a person’s life is did
that person make a difference and did they remain grounded. Richard certainly
measured up.